His Fierce Lycan Luna novel Chapter 36

AZALEA

Nothing feels real, yet the searing ache in my heart serves as a constant reminder of its undeniable existence and it beats despite feeling like it’s broken beyond repair. My mind, however, remains shrouded in a disorienting numbness, as if it has willingly retreated to shield me from the weight of emotions. It is both a blessing and a curse, it’s a detachment that renders me irrevocably, undeniably numb.

But when I lay my eyes upon Kyson, a flicker of concern ignites within me. He drowns his sorrows in an endless torrent of alcohol, a desperate attempt to drown out his own pain. And still, he never strays far from my side. Through our bond, I can sense his anguish, intertwined with mine yet separate. It is a peculiar sensation, to feel his pain as my own and yet disassociate from it, acknowledging its existence while refusing to claim it as mine.

Yet, in this state of emotional detachment, I find myself indifferent to everything. I exist but do not truly live. The concept of living or dying holds no sway over me; they are mere notions devoid of meaning. I am adrift in a bubble of indifference, numb to the world around me and to my own existence. And yet, as the days stretch on, I realize that remaining anchored to this unfeeling place cannot be a permanent state.

As life continues its relentless march before my silent eyes, I am haunted by one question: is this all there is? Is this the extent of my existence, forever trapped within this barren emotional landscape?

Gradually, I lose sight of the man who is my mate, losing connection not only with him but also with myself. Perhaps it is because for so long I had no sense of self, and the prospect of our unborn child held the promise of an identity—a role I could embrace as a mother. That loss cuts deep, for with it, another fragment of an identity I long to keep slips away.

Questions gnaw at my every thought, rendering me paralyzed in their grip. Why did he feign friendship only to plunge the blade of betrayal into my back? How can he harbor such seething anger towards someone he claims to care for? Why did he strip away the one thing that was undeniably mine?

The weight of these unanswered questions threatens to suffocate me. They consume my every waking moment, leaving little room for anything else. Yet, as I return to awareness, uncertain whether I have slept or have been awake this entire time, the room comes into focus and I am faced with my sleeping mate beside me.

He stirs, instinctively drawn closer to me, his warm breath cascading over my neck as he buries his nose in my hair. Worry lingers within our bond even in his sleep, evidence of his desire to bring comfort. But I know that true comfort will elude me until I uncover the answers I seek. I want understanding, need it for closure, I need proof that I did not bring this upon myself. Though a part of me knows this truth, doubt continues to claw at my consciousness, insidiously whispering that perhaps I am to blame.

With a heavy heart, I summon the strength to remove myself from Kyson’s protective embrace, sliding out from under his arm that drapes heavily across my waist. Crossing the room in silence, I reach for his robe, craving the familiar comfort of his scent enveloping me. Clutching it tightly against my chest, I cast one last glance at his peaceful form before tiptoeing towards the door. Peering back at him, he remains asleep.

He might be mad, or maybe he won’t be, I’m not sure. So much has changed and yet remains the same. Though I have seen yet another side of Kyson, multiple in fact over the last few days.

One that he loves me fiercely not leaving me alone despite his own anguish, two that he has a really bad drinking problem. I never realized its true extent until I was locked in a room with him for so long, it makes me wonder if that is how he drinks all the time.

On a few occasions, he drinks himself to oblivion. And on days when he doesn’t, I can feel the tremor of his hands when he touches me. I feel his frustration as he fights the urge to find himself in the bottom of another bottle. One thing became apparent after the first week, the bottle always won in the end.

That is something we will have to address later, for now I need to move before I decide to crawl back in bed and wallow in my own misery, so I twist the handle and step out the doors to find Trey. He looks at me as if he is seeing a ghost when I slip out the door and close it gently. He appears hesitant when I move toward him before he grabs me, crushing me against his chest. His arms lock around me and I feel his nose in my hair, as he inhales my scent like he is hoping I am real and not a figment of his imagination. I sigh, and briefly hug him back glad that I haven’t been too much of a burden on my guard that they’ve turned and now hate me.

“Thank god,” he whispers before holding me at arm’s length.

“Where’s the King?”

He glances at the door behind me before clutching my face in his hands and leaning down to look at me, his eyes sparkle with sadness, endless hazel depths of worry stare back at me as he stares with worry.

“Sleeping,” I say, though my throat hurts from hardly using my voice and comes out raspy.

“I shall wake him for you,” he says, though I shake my head. Kyson needs sleep, I know how little he has been getting, I know how exhausted he is, I also know he will feel like shit after how much he drank last night before he succumbed to it.

“Let him sleep, but I have a favor to ask of you,” I tell Trey.

“Yes, whatever you need,” he answers swiftly, while standing straight again.

“I want to see Peter,” I admit. He opens his mouth no doubt to deny me but I hold my hand up silencing him.

“I need this please, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t, and I know Kyson won’t let me, and he believes he is doing it to protect me, but I need this,” I plead, hoping he won’t wake Kyson to tell him of my plans. Trey’s eyes turn black and he looks torn but my blood is his sire, my blood he is oathed to.

“Can you at least tell Kyson? I am not comfortable going against him, he would see this as a betrayal,” Trey pleads. If I do, he may lock me in the room, or just go kill Peter without questioning him.

“You won’t, will you?” Trey sighs and rubs his temples. “At the very least, let me wake Liam to come with us, just to be extra safe,” he says, and I agree, one can never be too careful.

We meet Liam in the kitchens, he is still in his pajamas, which sit low on his hips, his chest is bare and a tattoo of a beast clawing out of chest is tattooed on his skin.

He tugs a tank top on as he walks in making me wonder how close his room is to the kitchens. Shaking that thought away, he drops a hand on my shoulder.

“Lass, maybe you should let Kyson deal with Peter,” he says, and I shake my head. I need answers then Kyson can deal with him.

“Aren’t children off limits?” I wonder how it would be possible. Would Kyson break the very laws he swore to uphold?

“Not when it comes to treason, there is an exception to every rule,” Liam explains.

I’m not sure how I feel about that, I’m not sure if I feel anything at his words. Trey walks ahead into the pantry opening up the door inside that goes to the stairs under the castle.

A chill rushes through me as we descend the stairs, and I stay close to Trey and Liam, using them like shields and they happily oblige as we navigate the winding tunnels before stopping at the cells. It’s dark here with the dim lighting and two guards stand either side of the cell.

Trey snarls and Liam places his hand on my side as if he is ready to rip me from the place, yet my eyes are on the boy that sits huddled in the corner, looking like the weight of the world rests solely on his shoulders.

Peter, a boy I trusted and despite what he had done. Some part of me hangs on to the hope he will tell me it is all a joke and it wasn’t him, that he hadn’t taken my baby from me. He is a child himself; a child who took my own child from me. Seeing him so broken and scared only makes his young age that much more painfully obvious.

Peter looks up, and I move to the bars. His head snaps up to look at me and he hangs his head. His knees are pressed to his chest; he looks small and meek. Though looks can be deceiving, was all of it a lie? Everything? I liked Peter, I liked his energy, his carefree personality, his bubbliness but now I see a monster in a child’s body, yet monsters hurt too. That becomes abundantly clear when he looks up, tears in his eyes that etch down his face and drip off his chin.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean… I panicked,” he sobs, and I look at Liam who is glaring daggers at him.

“Panicked? You drove a knife into her, that isn’t panicking that is calculated,” Trey snarls, hitting the bars and making him jump. The guards, I notice, step away from Trey, backing away from him as his body shakes violently. I place my hand on his arm and he calms some, glancing down at me.

Turning to the guard, I ask for the keys. Liam quickly grabs my hand to stop me and Trey presses closer to me like he will toss me over his shoulder for even thinking of going near Peter. He is detained, shackled with chains around his neck, ankles, and wrists; he isn’t going anywhere.

“He can’t hurt me,” I tell them.

“He already has,” Liam replies. I look at him and press my lips in a line. Yes, he has more than he will ever know.

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